


Devil Worship

by manic_intent



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Light BDSM, M/M, That AU where Akira is PM and Iwai is his bodyguard, kmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 06:31:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: The rock garden on the fifth floor of the Kantei was meant to be a place where one could sense a delicate “Japanese spirit”, according to the tourist guides. Iwai Munehisa had been Captain of Section 1 for five years and part of the general Security Police for longer, and he still couldn’t see it. As far as he was concerned, the rock garden served mostly to be a pain in his ass.The new Prime Minister, Kurusu Akira, liked to sit near the garden and think, hands clasped over his lap, long legs stretched close to the raked pebbles. He also liked having the rooftop open. Iwai tended to watch the sky, thinking of everything that could go wrong with drones and worse, just so that the incoming sunlight could give the goddamned rocks a pretty sparkly effect. Fuck architects.





	Devil Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Iwai is the bodyguard to the recently elected young PM, Kurusu Akira. Bonus: Kaoru is Akira’s aide/secretary. http://personakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/993.html
> 
> I can’t resist political prompts, but tbh I’m extremely unfamiliar with Japanese politics, so I’m probably going to get some things wrong. But I guess this is an AU of a game that’s an AU of reality anyway? XD;; I’m more of an American politics junkie. 
> 
> Anyway, some fast rules: 
> 
> 1\. Akira obviously has to be aged up. Macron might have made it to PM at 39 but that’d probably be unheard of in Asia (I grew up in SG)… the current PM, Abe, was one of the youngest PMs when he became PM at 52… However the prompt does say ‘young’. To be PM of Japan you have to be a member of the Diet, min age 25 (house of reps) or 30 (house of councillors). In this story, Akira is older than 25 but I'll leave his actual age up in the air. He is younger than Iwai though.  
> 2\. Japan votes for parties, not politicians. However, since Shido's campaign in P5 was kinda run abit like an election of personality, I've left that in for Akira as well.

The rock garden on the fifth floor of the Kantei was meant to be a place where one could sense a delicate “Japanese spirit”, according to the tourist guides. Iwai Munehisa had been Captain of Section 1 for five years and part of the general Security Police for longer, and he still couldn’t see it. As far as he was concerned, the rock garden served mostly to be a pain in his ass.

The new Prime Minister, Kurusu Akira, liked to sit near the garden and think, hands clasped over his lap, long legs stretched close to the raked pebbles. He also liked having the rooftop open. Iwai tended to watch the sky, thinking of everything that could go wrong with drones and worse, just so that the incoming sunlight could give the goddamned rocks a pretty sparkly effect. Fuck architects. 

“You’re thinking very loudly again,” Akira said, without opening his eyes. Unlike all the other ministerial staff milling around the Kantei, the new Prime Minister was dressed all in black: a close-fitting jacket over a black shirt and vest. He was also uncomfortably young: probably one of the youngest people in the building. 

“Sorry.” It was too early in the day for sincerity anyway. Akira merely nodded. He was worried: Iwai knew all the tells by now, subtle as they were. Akira was distracted, his eyes a little narrowed. “Relax,” Iwai offered. “You’ve got the votes.” 

Akira sighed. “A day can be a long time in politics and the Diet is still a fractious place.” 

“Your new party’s in the majority.” 

“It’s still like herding cats.” Akira stared at the pebbles. “We need the others too. And my new budget asks everyone to take a leap of faith.” 

“You and your party got elected by a pretty big margin. They can’t ignore that.” 

“Faith,” Akira said, pensive. “I got elected because of faith. Because the youth vote finally materialised in unexpected numbers… because people are tired of the old parties… because Japan is still heavily in debt, its economy stagnant. Deflation’s still a problem. The ageing population is still a problem. But people believe that I can change it. Rewrite the slate.” 

Iwai glanced around. The fifth floor was quiet right now: it was the lunch break. “You made a good case for it durin’ the election season.” 

“What is it the Americans say? You campaign in poetry, and govern in prose.” Akira pursed his lips. “Now I write prose, but perhaps too slowly. People who elect a messiah expect miracles, and grow disillusioned quickly when governance takes time.”

“Learned that from America too?” 

“From history.” Akira seemed to shake himself. “No matter. What’s done is done.” 

“Speaking of the Americans, heard they’re kinda pissed you decided to make big cuts to the defense budget.” Kaoru had been talking Iwai’s ear off about that all morning. 

“Kaoru talked to you?” Akira didn’t miss much.

“He _is_ my son. And your personal assistant.” 

Akira shrugged. “Yoshida’s been incredibly pessimistic about that part of the deal and his pessimism is contagious, but I didn’t realize he got to Kaoru.” 

“Eh, well, Yoshida’s your Chief Cabinet Secretary, and he’s been kickin’ around for a while. Could be he’s got a finger to the wind. Could be wrong, too.” 

“That’s what worries me.” Akira pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his temple, as though trying to stave off a headache. “Even if the budget passes, it’s not going to be completely popular. People demand purity from politicians even though it isn’t possible. Politics, like life, is about compromise. Playing it like a zero sum game gets nothing done.” 

“Relax. Nothin’ else you can do now, yeah? If shit happens, just try again. That’s also politics for you.” 

“You have such a straightforward view of the world,” Akira said, though he smiled. “It’s deluded and yet I always want to believe in it.”

“Who’s deluded, eh?” Iwai said, with mock belligerence, and Akira laughed, beckoning, his smile going briefly coy. Iwai raised his eyebrows in a silent question, but Akira was already sauntering away from the rock garden, towards his office.

Kaoru tried an ambush near the door, his arms full of folders, but Akira leaned over, murmured something that made Kaoru twitch and cough, then Akira was hauling Iwai into the office before he could even greet his own son, nudging the door shut behind them and locking it. 

Ah. 

“Probably shouldn’t do this in the middle of the day. In. Your _office_.” Iwai folded his arms, though he knew it was a futile gesture. Akira didn’t get intimidated. Besides, for all his occasional forays into self-doubt, Akira always got what he wanted. It was preternatural. 

“We’re alone now,” Akira purred, and Gods so they _were_ going to do this after all. “Should that really be how you address me?” He slid his fingers up over the embroidered ’SP’ logo on Iwai’s sleeve, and tugged lightly on his tie.

Well. 

Iwai cleared his throat. “No.” He was already growing hard, and Akira could tell, the little minx: his eyes were flicking down to the growing tent in Iwai’s trousers. Iwai gave in. He always did. “Master.” 

Akira smiled, and for a moment he looked _feral_ , his eyes blazing, shuttered away in the next as he pulled Iwai’s tie, walking them both back until Akira was leaning against his antique desk, the only holdover from his predecessor. The rest of Akira’s office was austere, the furniture minimal or cheap: just like Akira’s private chambers. Akira’s apparent indifference to luxury was one reason why he was so popular with the public. 

Iwai knew better. Akira might be indifferent to _material_ luxury, but he liked elegance and comfort well enough—where power was concerned. He liked Iwai on his knees, tie looped around Akira’s soft fingers. Akira always sucked in a soft breath when Iwai bowed his head and started to work on getting Akira’s cock out; the more impatiently the better. Akira liked _power_. If he wasn’t also one of the kindest people Iwai had ever met, this would have been a very different Prime Ministership. 

Fingers tickled through Iwai’s hair as he unzipped Akira and breathed in, mouthing over his boxers. Akira chuckled and pushed his hips forward, already impatient, though when Iwai started to tug down his trousers and underwear, Akira’s grip tightened over the back of his neck. 

“Forgetting something?” Akira asked, only a tiny bit breathless. 

So it was going to be one of _those_ days. Iwai tried not to make it obvious that he was listening for the door. Was Kaoru still outside? Hell, lunch was going to be over: soon there’d be a steady stream of people with demands on Akira’s time again. “You really have time to draw this out?” 

“We’ll have time if I want to take the time,” Akira said, and the steel in his tone made Iwai’s cock ache afresh. “Don’t be insolent.” 

Had it been anyone else, Iwai would have rolled his eyes, flipped off the person, and gotten back on his feet to fix his clothing. Akira had never managed the coldness needed for this kind of playacting, though: there was always laughter in his voice, in his eyes. His thumb rubbed against Iwai’s throat, an unconscious caress. So Iwai breathed deep, again, and groaned. “Please, Master.” 

“Please?” Akira repeated playfully, the bastard. 

“Let me suck your pretty cock,” Iwai growled, mouthing over Akira’s boxers again, getting the thin fabric wet. “Then you should fuck me against your desk.” 

Akira laughed. “You’re terrible at begging,” he teased, though his grip eased against Iwai’s neck, and he let Iwai tug down his trousers and boxers to his knees.

Iwai’s concern about the dwindling lunch window faded once he got close enough for a taste. Akira did have a pretty cock, thickening now in Iwai’s grip, and Iwai kissed the tip, always reverent in intimacy, and then licked all that hardening flesh nice and wet. Akira chuckled again, lower now, his fingertips digging lightly into Iwai’s neck, a warning not to tease. Once, he’d left bruises that Iwai had to wear a scarf to hide. He’d have worn them openly if he could: Akira’s mark, Akira’s collar, anything. He took Akira into his mouth, worshipful again, a prayer in his stifled moan. Outside this secret between them, Akira now belonged to the world. Here, like this, Iwai could afford to be selfish. He relaxed and let Akira push deep, the grip on his neck tightening, then easing when Akira was deep enough that Iwai was starting to gag.

“Suck,” Akira said, his voice shredded thin by lust. Iwai obeyed, in this and in everything, getting his fingers on what he couldn’t manage, sucking on the rest, not really caring whether he was being noisy. Making a show. Akira watched, not even thrusting, with only the occasional hitch to his breathing. “You need more practice, Mune,” Akira said, so fucking conversationally. “Someday I’d like to see you take me all the way in. Stretch your throat. You’d have no choice but to drink it all down when I come.” 

Iwai might have let out an embarrassing sound. He squirmed on the carpet, but kept his hands to himself. Akira noticed: he chuckled again, but didn’t move, stroking Iwai’s hair instead, carding through the short spikes like encouraging a pet. So Iwai sucked until his jaw ached from the stretch, until he could hear it getting noisier outside. Busier. Everyone back on the clock. 

“Up,” Akira said, and for a moment, Iwai was disappointed. Still, it was prudent. They’d finish this some other time, maybe at night. He got to his feet, coughing and wiping his mouth, then he yelped as Akira pinched his ass. “Hey. I’m not done with you yet.” 

“Really not a good idea, boss,” Iwai said, his voice already broken to rasps, but he let Akira brace him against the table, palms gripping the edge of the desk. 

“Mm, I know.” Akira was nudging his knees apart, kissing the arch of his back. When he unbuckled Iwai’s holster and belt, then pulled down his trousers and briefs, Iwai’s grip tightened on the desk in anticipation. There was the sound of a cap being opened—had Akira had that in his pockets—and then Iwai hissed as slick fingers pressed against his hole. 

Outside, very dimly, Iwai could hear Kaoru saying something muffled to someone else, possibly Yoshida. Oh shit. “This place ain’t _that_ soundproof,” Iwai hissed. 

“I’m not the one who has a problem staying quiet,” Akira shot back, and eased in a finger, the asshole. Iwai had to bite down on his fist. He was still loose from the morning, and it _felt_ good, always did, even when Akira was being more of an ass than usual about prep. Fuck. He balanced himself on the desk on elbows and arms, biting his wrist to stifle whimpers as Akira managed two fingers, then three. By the time he had his cockhead pressed against Iwai’s hole, Iwai was squirming for it, breathless, sweating into his shirt. 

“C’mon,” Iwai growled, then he had to stuff his fingers into his mouth as Akira laughed and obliged, pushing in, more urgent than usual, and it was a good thing they’d been thorough in the morning, it— “You’re not wearin’ a rubber?” Iwai said, incredulous. They’d both been tested, and this wasn’t a first, but it was in the middle of the _day_ and… Akira chuckled in his ear, catching the flesh briefly in his teeth. 

“Got to be quick,” Akira whispered, “but you can stay wet until I get to fuck you again properly in bed.” 

“Shit.” Iwai bit his fist again hurriedly as Akira rolled his hips, and it hurt, but Iwai was pushing back against the pressure, already impatient. Akira was quick about it, none of his usual playfulness, already close, maybe, from doing this in his _office_ , in the middle of the fucking day, and he was just taking his pleasure, not bothering with Iwai’s, thrusting roughly until he was grinding all the way in, spilling. Iwai shuddered, swallowing his cry, hissing as Akira teasingly rolled his hips, rubbing his seed into Iwai’s walls for a lazy moment before he was pulling free. 

Iwai watched, disbelieving and dazed, as Akira wiped himself down and straightened up his clothes. His cock still ached, but he knew better than to ask for more. Eventually, Akira kissed his cheek, his smile all teeth. “I’m going to see what Yoshida wants. Use the bathroom. Once you’re presentable, you can find me in the rock garden.” 

“Yes,” Iwai said, and when Akira waited, he added, “Master.” 

“Good.” Akira squeezed his cock lightly, and watched him buck for it, because he was a demon at the worst of times. “Be good, and we’ll take care of this tonight.” 

“Promises, promises.” Iwai leaned over, stealing a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Further reading:  
> Looking at how an independent might have plausibly made a run for Japanese PM: http://www.economist.com/news/asia/21719473-insurrection-may-be-leadership-campaign-disguise-governor-tokyo-declares-war-her?zid=306&ah=1b164dbd43b0cb27ba0d4c3b12a5e227
> 
> State of Japanese PMship as of Nov 2016: http://www.economist.com/news/asia/21710018-shinzo-abe-has-accumulated-unprecedented-power-abe-ascendant?zid=306&ah=1b164dbd43b0cb27ba0d4c3b12a5e227
> 
> Virtual tour of the Kantei (PM’s residence) wtf this website was it made in the 90s http://japan.kantei.go.jp/vt/ 
> 
> http://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2017/04/29/national/history/power-politics-japans-popular-political-platforms/#.WSAxDROGOJQ
> 
> Also I like how Japan’s version of the Secret Service has a height requirement for guys XD;; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Security_Police_(Japan)  
> \--  
> twitter: manic_intent  
> tumblr: manic-intent


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